


On Replay

by riahk



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Birthday, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Shippy Gen, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-19 06:07:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29621745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riahk/pseuds/riahk
Summary: Felix was an accomplished swordsman and a war general. He shouldn’t have to be dealing with such trivial issues as… whatever all that was. Damn songstresses and their beautiful voices, and their even more formidable spell-singing. At this rate, he was more likely to die from friendly fire than any challenge the battlefield managed to throw at him.Felix has a thing for singers. He wishes he understood why. His friends attempt to help, with varying levels of success. Written for Felix's birthday.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic & Dorothea Arnault, Annette Fantine Dominic & Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Dorothea Arnault & Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Lysithea von Ordelia, Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	On Replay

_“I hear your voice when I'm asleep, or in battle... It's like… it's like I'm your captive.”_

The words echoed in Felix's head as he sidled through the narrow corridors of bookshelves in the monastery library. Did he really say that? What was going on with his head? And he didn't even want to think about what happened after: more stumbling half-sentences from him, a tightening in his chest, and then the sweet sounds of that same voice he'd admitted to being haunted by.

Lysithea was in the exact spot he expected her to be, her small hands wrapped around the thick cover of a spell tome and a notebook page full of carefully monogrammed sigils open beside her. Pink eyes rolled skeptically up from their reading material to regard Felix curiously. He dangled a paper bag in front of her. "I brought you something," he announced, placing it softly on the table.

"What do you need help with?" Lysithea asked unceremoniously, easily anticipating the reason for Felix's impromptu visit as her gaze rested now on the offering. She controlled herself for the time being, nails tapping idly against paper.

Felix resisted the urge to make a sardonic quip, gathering his focus and taking a seat in front of her. "I have a question that needs answering," he said, mouth twisting with nerves. It didn't help that he was in the library, one of his least favorite places to be, nor that Lysithea was one of the most intimidating people he knew.

His hesitance only made her more so, brows furrowing at Felix's vagaries. "Out with it, then," she commanded, leaning back in her seat.

"Right," Felix affirmed, taking a deep breath. "I was wondering if… if there are any spells that involve music. Singing in particular."

Lysithea hummed, resting her chin pensively on her knuckles. "Well, the incantation is an important element in spell-casting," she began. "Though most can be pulled off without the verbal component…" she trailed off, realizing she'd already lost Felix with her casual musings. "Could you be more specific? And why do you need this information, exactly?"

Of course she wanted to know that, Felix thought, reeling at the barrage of probing questions. And her eyes were fixed on him again, burning into him with such ferocity that Felix began to wonder if she could curse him with just a look, too. He opened his mouth to respond, but Lysithea's patience had already dried up.

"Is this about Annette?" she asked, her tone both sure and accusing.

"What?" Felix felt his hair stand on end.

"I sure as hell have never heard _you_ sing," Lysithea pointed out. "So why else would you be interested in musical cantrips? There are only a handful of people around here who fit the 'singing mage' label.”

He groaned. Lysithea's know-it-all attitude was taxing, but unfortunately he needed it right now. "It doesn't matter who this is about," he said, re-focusing. "I want to know if someone could… theoretically… hypnotize someone with their voice. Magically, I mean. Like an enchantment, or—"

"Felix," Lysithea cut in. "Annette didn't cast a spell on you."

It was a logical answer, which would have satisfied him — _if_ this were a logical problem. But it wasn’t. “She may as well have!” he protested through gritted teeth, struggling to keep his voice down to library-appropriate levels. “I can't get these songs out of my head,” he continued, crossing his arms and channeling all his nervous energy into shaking his leg discreetly beneath the table. “I hear them when I'm patrolling, when I'm training… even in my dreams.” Ugh, the dreams. “It's distracting.”

“News flash, Felix,” Lysithea groaned, motioning broadly with her hands. “Music is nice, and sometimes songs get stuck in people's heads.”

“Not like this,” he mumbled. He’s heard music before. It’s been a while, because of the war, but why should that make a difference? “Although,” he began, a thought striking him. “If it's not a novel issue, do you think there's a spell that would get a song…” he tapped his fingertips lightly together, then pulled them apart. “Unstuck?”

Lysithea rolled her eyes, but Felix could see the threads of curiosity tug at her. “Maybe,” she conceded, never one to deny the infinite realm of possibility that was magical study. “But I think you should start by trying what the rest of us do, before seeking any mystical treatments.”

Not as elucidating as he would like, but at least they were getting somewhere. “Some suggestions would be nice,” he prompted.

She looked at him with frustrated disbelief, a growing trend for him lately. “You— ugh, alright. The easiest way I can think of is to listen to a new song,” she offered, attention already drifting back to her reading material.

“That… sounds like it'll only create a different problem,” Felix argued.

“Try it first, maybe, before you come bother me again,” Lysithea urged with a frown. “Or would you like someone to _actually_ cast a spell on you?” Her fingers waved threateningly through the air.

Felix knew better than to test her. “Fine,” he sighed, rising from his seat. “Thanks, I guess. Enjoy the cake,” he added, before turning on his heels and leaving.

—

_"Oh, I know! We're holding a small opera in the cathedral soon. I'll be singing too. If you're interested in... But of course you aren't."_

_"You can sing?"_

_"I'm sorry. What did you just say? Can I sing? I was only a diva of the Mittelfrank Opera Company, that's all."_

_"Oh, right. I forgot."_

Yeah. Not his brightest moment. But in his defense, Felix hadn't seen Dorothea for five years, and he'd never been very detail-oriented. Plus, her invitation was a perfectly timed distraction for the ills currently plaguing him, and maybe that excitement at the prospect of a potential cure muddled his brain a bit. That was a running theme, lately, and Felix’s inability to concentrate was beginning to drive him insane. He'd been hopeful about trying out Lysithea's advice to chase away the songs currently making their home in his head with new ones.

Unfortunately that plan backfired, and now he was going crazy twice as quickly as before. If Annette’s cute lyrics and bubbly melodies had gotten under his skin, Dorothea’s vocals paired with the theatricality of her operatic performance were like a stab to the heart. Felix was at a loss, wandering aimlessly through the monastery with an involuntary hum on his lips, his own poor attempt to replicate the music torturing him.

He continued his walk, recalling how grand the cathedral had looked with a stage set up amidst the rubble, the pews near full with an eager audience. How Dorothea and her entourage had managed to put such a production together in only a couple months baffled him, regardless of how ‘small’ she claimed it to be. The pews and stage had been adorned in flowers, with elegant garlands gracing the curving archways and stone columns. The hanging adornments had been enchanted to form a beautiful canopy of light that washed the hall in a relaxing glow.

Oh, and to make things more difficult: Annette had been there, and she’d insisted on Felix sitting next to her, stars shining in her eyes as she marveled at the decorations and the set. “I’m surprised you’re not on stage singing with them,” he’d blurted out, unthinkingly, as he settled into the row, noting that velvet cushions had been added to all the benches.

“What’s gotten into you lately, Felix?” Annette giggled, clearly astonished by the idea of sharing her gift with a crowd of strangers. _Your singing is what's gotten into me_ , he thought, right before the show started. At least he’d had the sense not to tell her _that_.

The spectacle of lights and colors, marvelous though they were, paled in comparison to the star diva’s voice. Everything melted away in the wake of Dorothea’s arias, echoing off the high ceiling of the cathedral and seizing Felix’s attention with a wonderful, terrifying force. At one point he simply closed his eyes and let the hypnotic music wash over his ears.

Then it was over, and Felix could barely remember the moments immediately following the curtain call. He was pretty sure he’d spoken to Dorothea, maybe? Had he said anything nice? Annette rushed to heap praises on her fellow singer — Felix didn’t fail to note her sweet smile and the dreamy expression that fit her like a glove. Dorothea had fielded the compliments with a practiced ease and humility; Felix could hardly believe the poised woman in her elaborate dress was the same one who’d gone toe-to-toe with him at the training grounds.

Speaking of the training grounds, that’s where he’d originally been headed. But as he roused himself from his uncharacteristic daydreaming, Felix found himself at the edge of the greenhouse where Annette had last serenaded him. The mere glimpse of the flora peeking through the wide entryway stirred yet another memory; Annette’s strange, enthralling lyrics mingled with Dorothea’s smooth, professionally-trained harmonies.

Hold on. That wasn’t just in his head, Felix realized with a start. Both voices were in fact streaming from the depths of the foliage, an irresistible and dangerous combination. His feet moved of their own accord, at least having the sense to tread silently as he slipped discreetly into the building, quickly locating the two women and crouching behind a row of bluebells. He snuck a quick peek to find Annette and Dorothea tending to the plants, passing seemingly improvised lines back and forth to each other. Then he turned back around, relaxed against the greenery and simply listened.

“You’re a perfect soprano, Annette,” Dorothea cooed enthusiastically. “I’m so happy to find another kindred spirit around here. And such creative song-writing!”

Annette let out an embarrassed whine. “Goodness, Dorothea. Thank you… I think they’re weird, mostly, but I’m glad you like them.” Even their normal speaking voices had a soothing effect, Felix thought, focused more on the raw sounds than the actual content.

“I’m sure more folks at the monastery would enjoy them, too,” Dorothea encouraged.

“I don’t know about that… I think I’d like to practice a bit more before they’re ready,” Annette replied.

“Sometimes the best way to grow is by jumping head-first into something," Dorothea said. Then, with a mischievous lilt: "We could have used your expertise in our show the other day." The statement was met with a groan.

“Ugh, that’s what Felix said, too,” the other woman admitted. Unbeknownst to them, that very same eavesdropper was suddenly attending their words closely at the sound of his name.

He could very easily imagine the triumphant grin on Dorothea's face as she purred back at Annette. "See, you already have two adoring fans," she trilled. "Though I'm a bit envious I wasn't the first to witness your secret skills." Felix rolled his eyes involuntarily; why did Dorothea feel the need to inject every moment with dramatic flare? "Speaking of secrets…"

Before she continued, Felix heard and felt the determined footsteps on the walkway, crescendoing louder and closer. _Shit_ , he thought frantically, his heart pounding quickly in his chest as he took inventory of his surroundings again. Dorothea's accusing question cut sharply through the air, catching him halfway to his feet. "Is there something you wanted to contribute, Felix?" He exhaled slowly through his nose, the low rush of his breath turning into a defeated whine. Penetrating emerald eyes met him when he turned his head, still crouched uneasily on the ground.

Another set of light, rushed steps followed. "Oh my _goddess_ ," Annette groaned. "Again, Felix?"

Any words he had prepared dried up on his tongue as he wobbled to his feet, body tense and eyes scanning for the easiest exit. “Look, I heard…”

“Singing, right,” Dorothea finished for him. Her gaze flicked to the other woman, who was watching Felix with an enigmatic glare. “You weren’t kidding, Annette. I didn’t think it would be so _easy_ ,” she continued. Felix didn’t like the implication in her statement, nor the growing feeling that he’d been lured into some kind of trap. And Lysithea had treated him like he was crazy for thinking their song was anything but harmless. He would be sure to give her hell, assuming he got out of this greenhouse alive. Which was looking less and less likely as he noticed Dorothea’s fingers dancing in the air, sparks flickering between the soft skin.

But it was a rush of wind that zipped past his ear first. “Get out of here, Felix!” Annette cried as she lobbed the spell at him with a righteous fury. The magic finally snapped him from his trance and Felix switched into battle mode, his feet moving quickly beneath him as he retreated through the flowers and slipped through one of the side entrances. As he ran, he could swear he heard a symphony of playful laughter in his wake.

Felix was an accomplished swordsman and a war general. He shouldn’t have to be dealing with such trivial issues as… whatever all that was. Damn songstresses and their beautiful voices, and their even more formidable spell-singing. At this rate, he was more likely to die from friendly fire than any challenge the battlefield managed to throw at him.

The outlandish series of events rattled his brain as he continued sprinting, too preoccupied to pay attention to where he was stepping. It was no wonder, then, that he soon found himself colliding with an unwitting passerby, letting out a dull cry of surprise as strong arms caught him mid-fall.

“Woah,” a familiar voice called out from above. “Everything alright there, Felix?” He blinked up and found himself face to face with Sylvain, who wasted no time pulling Felix back to his feet and giving him a steadying pat on the shoulder. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost,” he added with a breathless chuckle.

“More like two witches,” Felix huffed, pressing his palm firmly into his chest.

Sylvain narrowed his eyes curiously. “Sounds… interesting,” he tried, but flashed Felix an understanding smile. “I’m headed to the dining hall right now. How about you tell me all about it over some food?”

“Yeah… yeah, let’s do that,” Felix agreed, too flustered to think of anything else.

—

“Stop laughing.”

The sound diminished into a low hum as Sylvain’s fingers creeped over his mouth, but Felix could still see the upward curve of Sylvain’s lips, unable to hide his amusement at the story. “And I was beginning to think I’d never get to witness you experiencing girl problems,” he said, voice laced with exaggerated adoration. “I’m so proud.”

“That’s not what this is about,” Felix grumbled. Though he hadn’t quite pinpointed exactly what was going on either. Hence why he’d been so open to confiding in Sylvain in the first place.

“Right, right,” Sylvain replied. “It’s about the _music_ ,” he said skeptically. “Though that in itself is interesting enough for me.” Felix raised an inquisitive brow at him. “Of all the dangerous situations you often find yourself in, I never thought a song would pose such a worthy opponent for you.”

Not just a song, Felix thought. Many songs. And it was more the voices reciting them, weaving words and emotions into an art piece akin to the tapestries and paintings that hung on the monastery walls. Felix had never felt particularly stirred by visuals, and always thought he simply lacked an aesthetic sensibility. In reality, he’d simply been indulging the wrong sense all this time. “That’s a dramatic way of putting it,” he finally said.

“You’re dramatic,” Sylvain offered.

“I am not,” Felix argued. He stopped himself from barreling into more aimless chatter, shaking his head and reasserting his focus. Something Dorothea had said right before chasing him out of the greenhouse was bothering him. “She acted like… like she knows something I don't."

“I'm sure they both do,” Sylvain mumbled sarcastically.

Felix ignored the offhand comment. “And why were they acting so aggressive, anyway? I would have left if they'd asked,” he said.

“You sure about that?” Sylvain asked, teasingly. Felix groaned.

“Whatever. I think they were acting suspicious, is all.”

Sylvain looked distractedly down at his plate, threatening to lose interest. “What do you think they're up to, exactly?” He stabbed one of the remaining bites of food nonchalantly with his fork.

Felix thumped the table with both palms as Sylvain took a bite, chewed and swallowed. “That’s what you’re supposed to be helping me with.”

There was a look akin to boredom in the other man’s eyes now; irritatingly so, Felix thought, considering how many times he’d humored Sylvain by listening to woes he had no interest in. “One problem at a time, Felix,” Sylvain chided. “Don't you want to rid yourself of this obsession?” He clasped his fingers together, leaning forward to rest his chin on his knuckles.

“I already tried,” Felix mumbled. “Music is always playing in my head.” His conversation with Lysithea was replaying in his head now, too; he could sense his discussion with Sylvain was heading in the same unhelpful direction. After that frightening reminder of both Annette and Dorothea’s spell talents, he wasn’t convinced that magic had nothing to do with it.

“You could always learn to sing yourself,” Sylvain suggested.

Felix blanched at the thought. “No way.”

An exaggerated pout stuck out on Sylvain’s face. “Aaw, I bet you could have a lovely singing voice with a little practice,” he mused. Then, upon catching Felix’s glare, he offered more reasonable advice: “Learn to play an instrument, maybe?”

It wasn’t a terrible idea, but… “I don't have time for that,” Felix said decisively.

He didn’t mean to be difficult, but Sylvain’s heavy, exasperated sigh wasn’t encouraging. “Well, what seems to help?” he asked.

There was a moment of quiet as Felix took the time to think. He’d avoided actively imagining Dorothea’s dulcet tones or Annette’s cheerful ditties, but he let himself now and a wave of relaxation swept over him. It was easy to lose himself in the recent memory of the greenhouse — before he’d gotten caught, of course, and all hell broke loose. “Listening to them sing, ironically,” he finally said, directing his dazed gaze back to Sylvain.

Was there something on his face? Sylvain was watching him intently, and Felix was suddenly self-conscious about how his pleasant recollection looked on him. “Hmm, that makes sense,” Sylvain began. “Maybe you just need more exposure… to get used to it. I'm sure Annette or Dorothea would understand if you told them, and be open to humoring you. You already asked Annette to sing for you once, right?”

“Yes,” Felix replied, embarrassed. “But only once.” And thinking about it still gave him butterflies. “If I could get her to sing for me every day, though…” Maybe that wouldn't be so bad. Maybe he would, as Sylvain put it, get used to it. “It could work.”

And now Sylvain was looking at him incredulously, like Felix had grown a second head.

“What?”

Sylvain shook his head in disbelief, struggling to find words. “That, uh. Felix,” he managed. “‘Sing for you every day’? Annette might get the wrong idea.”

“Oh,” Felix muttered. “Well, I would ask Dorothea too,” he explained matter-of-factly.

“No! That's not what the issue is here!” Sylvain exclaimed, pointing accusingly with his utensil.

“Then I don't… I don't understand.”

Sylvain’s gaze dropped to their empty plates with a forlorn sigh. “Come on, let's take these dishes away,” he said, rising from his seat. Felix followed silently, sensing the buzz of more unsaid advice. Sylvain waited until they were in the courtyard to say more.

“Listen, Fe,” he began, voice low and close. “Are you absolutely positive it's only Annette and Dorothea's voices you're interested in?”

Felix’s brow furrowed, arms crossing instinctively. “Yes, Sylvain,” he insisted, enunciating each syllable with smoldering determination. Unfortunately, Sylvain’s statement was now making him consider the prospect more. Dorothea and Annette were both objectively pretty — not that that’s ever mattered to him. And he often saw Annette working hard at chores, or spied Dorothea bringing food to the children in town.

“You look less certain by the minute,” Sylvain muttered, pulling Felix slowly out of his daze. “Does the idea of being in love scare you?”

That abruptly got Felix’s attention. “Don't use that word!” he hissed, hushing Sylvain.

“Right,” Sylvain replied, running a hand through his hair. “So it does.”

“I already told you it's not that,” Felix asserted through gritted teeth.

The aggravation was contagious, because Sylvain’s words were gathering heat, too. “Goodness, Lysithea said she was concerned, but I didn't think—”

“Wait, what did Lysithea tell you?” Felix interjected. First Dorothea and Annette were gossiping about stupid, mindless comments he’d made, and now this. Why did it seem everybody was talking about him lately?

Sylvain waved his hands dismissively, nervously. “Nothing, nothing. This is clearly going nowhere,” he said. His hand rested on Felix’s shoulder. “But I've given you something to think about, yeah? How about you sleep on it?”

Felix sighed, avoiding Sylvain’s sincere gaze in favor of the tranquil surroundings, the darkening sky. “Sure, alright,” he agreed reluctantly. Anything to get out of this conversation.

—

Miraculously, Felix was not plagued by any symphonic dreams that night. He was awoken peacefully by the relaxing sound of light rain outside the window, and granted a reprieve from his wandering thoughts as he silently got dressed. It was early and quiet, and with no distractions bouncing around in his head Felix mechanically prepared himself for a walk to the training grounds.

He almost missed the small sheet of parchment, cream white against the dark wood of his floor, that must have been slid beneath his doorway in the dead of night. When he indulged his curiosity and read it, he wished he hadn't noticed.

_We know your secret, Felix! Stop trying to escape._

Hm. That was disconcerting. The handwriting didn't ring any bells, either.

_If you truly want to be free… meet us at sunset in the chapel._

And if he had any sense, he would ignore this obvious prank — or trap, or whatever else one was inclined to call it — and continue on with his day. So Felix did, but not before slipping the note casually into his back pocket. Then he marched briskly out of his room and made for the training grounds.

Perhaps it was the gloomy weather inspiring lethargy, but Felix barely encountered anyone as he walked, and no familiar faces greeted him once he reached his destination. He welcomed the solitude, however odd it was, and the hours quickly slipped away with his diligent practice. At lunchtime, Felix thought briefly about the note while enjoying the day's special, which happened to be one of his favorites. As for the mysterious letter, it was obvious that he shouldn't follow the instructions. If he could find any one of his friends, he was sure they'd agree with him.

But the dining hall was suspiciously devoid of people he knew, and his curiosity was beginning to burn. With no one readily available to draw his focus away, the paper he'd so foolishly kept continued to taunt him into the afternoon. As the sun began to dip below the horizon, Felix inevitably abandoned his work and made for the chapel. "This is a terrible idea," he muttered to himself, as if that would stop him from doing it.

The small building — a miniature version of the main cathedral — was empty, even as the sky darkened outside the windows. Felix stepped cautiously through the center of the room, skin bristling with anticipation. He was going to give whoever lured him out here a piece of his mind.

"You made it, Felix," a voice called from behind him. He recognized it immediately, which was the only reason he didn't turn around.

"I should have known you wrote that note," he said with a sigh.

"I'm not sure I know what you're talking about," they teased. Felix pivoted around with a frown, setting Dorothea with a glare.

"Don't be coy," he urged, regarding the woman critically. She stood poised by the chapel entrance, a smile on her face. Not much different from normal, except — Felix furrowed his brow nervously as he caught the detail — the glint of metal in her hands. His own fingers began creeping over to the weapon at his side. "Why do you have a sword," he mumbled dumbly.

Dorothea took a step forward. "Because it's the only way to get you to _listen_ , it seems," she said.

Felix tensed as she moved closer. “So far you've said nothing interesting.”

“Maybe I should sing it, then,” Dorothea replied. “That's your secret, isn't it? You can't resist a beautiful voice.” Felix remained silent, not in the mood to play into Dorothea’s game any further. Didn’t she have anything better to do? “It makes you crazy,” she continued. “You've certainly gotten up to some nonsensical shenanigans because of it. Like dropping in on private conversations in the greenhouse…”

“A public place,” he bit out, remembering the previous day’s encounter grimly. At least he was more prepared this time. “If you want privacy, go to your room.”

“Not the point!” Dorothea quipped. “Why can't you just own up to enjoying something for once in your life?”

_Because it’s embarrassing_ , he thought. It’s distracting, there’s a war going on and there’s no time for levity. “I enjoy sword-fighting,” he told her.

She groaned, her arm lifting reluctantly but elegantly. “Draw your weapon, then,” she commanded.

He wasn’t going to question that. “Gladly,” he said, savoring the sound of metal as he unsheathed his sword. He’d been secretly wanting a rematch, anyway, and now was as good a time as any to rise to the challenge.

The songstress advanced, moving in much too close and much too quickly. Their blades engaged with a satisfying clang, feet dancing gracefully around each other. “I promise to sing for you if you win,” Dorothea purred, her eyes shimmering with over-confidence. Felix could end this right here, but that would be no fun. Dorothea’s taunt was clear evidence that she knew this.

Felix moved his arm, slipping out of the bind as he processed her offer. “That's… unnecessary.”

Dorothea hummed, circling him closely. “Would you prefer Annette, then?”

He initiated the attack this time. “Don’t pull her into this.”

“It’s a bit late for that,” Dorothea said as she beat his blade away and drove him backwards, her gaze drifting past his head. Felix became aware of movement behind him, retreating from his current opponent and barely moving in time to avoid the telltale gust of a wind spell as it hurtled toward him. He stumbled out of a spin, managed to regain his balance and held his blade threateningly in Dorothea’s direction while his attention settled on the edge of the room.

“What the hell,” he muttered, locking eyes with the petite figure who’d seemingly materialized from nowhere. “Annette?!” He expected this kind of thing from Dorothea, but seeing the fierce expression on Annette’s face threw him.

“That’s for spreading rumors about me!” she yelled, even as he saw more magic gathering at her fingertips.

“Rumors?” he asked incredulously. “I don’t gossip!”

Her words burned with a familiar fury. “You thought I cast a spell on you!” She punctuated her complaint with a second miniature tornado slung in his direction. Felix’s free hand rushed to draw his second sword, deflecting the bundle of energy into one of the pews. He made a mental note to never trust Lysithea with another secret.

“I told _one_ person that I thought you _might_ have enchanted me,” he explained exasperatedly. “In confidence!”

Annette’s hands balled into fists, ceasing her assault momentarily. “The fact it even occurred to you in the first place is the problem!”

Felix took advantage of the brief pause, steadying his feet as he watched her move around the perimeter of the room. “I don’t want to fight you, Annette,” he huffed, tightening his grip on both swords.

“Then fight me, instead,” his fellow duelist called, ending her polite waiting. Dorothea lunged forward, occupying Felix’s attention even as he tried to stay wary of Annette’s spellcasting. She was serious, now; her silent focus was indication enough of that, as was the fact that she was no longer giving him any free openings to exploit. Felix couldn’t help but smile, losing himself in the thrill of the fight. He focused on disarming Dorothea, drawing her in with a feint; Annette, meanwhile, kept her distance, struggling to aim with her fighting partner so close to her target.

Dorothea seemed to sense Annette’s trouble, knocking Felix back significantly with a magic-infused strike. Felix dodged another spell as he closed the distance again with an aggressive attack that Dorothea managed to block, beginning to tire under the force of Felix’s strength. Annette followed up quickly with more magic. “Look out!” she cried, as the momentum of Felix’s assault twirled Dorothea around and right into the swirling eddy intended for him. She fell to the ground with a surprised cry, and as she scrambled to get back on her feet she was met with the point of Felix’s blade.

“Now would be the time to yield,” he said through shallow breaths.

He was met with a smirk unbefitting someone who’d just lost. “You sure about that?” Dorothea asked, her palms pressed into the floor as sparks gathered. Felix took a step back, but instead of falling prey to Dorothea’s lightning he felt the air around him compress and knock him away, sending him into one of the wooden benches with a hard thud.

“Fuck,” he muttered, losing his grip on both his blades. “That’s cheating,” he added, his head spinning as he became aware of footsteps approaching him. It was Annette first, hands held out threateningly as Felix pushed to a seat. He held his own up in surrender. “Alright, alright. I yield.”

The charged tension in the air faded as Annette relaxed her hands and Dorothea waltzed over, brushing herself off; Felix stayed where he was, leaning his sore body against the pew and peering up at both women who were watching him intently. “Did you get it out of your system, then?” he asked, rolling his neck side to side experimentally. Annette’s hands stilled and dropped to her sides.

“I suppose so,” she said, exchanging a look with Dorothea.

“Well, since you won,” Felix began, not bothering to bring up the dubious conditions of their victory. “What do you want from me?” He expected a scolding, or maybe some extra chores, but Dorothea shook her head.

“It would be ill-fitting to ask you for anything, considering what day it is,” she said with a smile.

Felix’s gaze shifted with confusion. “What day is it?” Schedules weren’t his strong suit; he rarely had the need to make plans more than a couple days in advance, and he couldn’t recall the last time he’d purposefully set his eyes on a calendar.

Annette’s jaw dropped open. “Felix,” she said, managing to make his name sound like profanity. “It’s the 20th of the Pegasus Moon. Your birthday?”

He hung his head with a sigh, the scattered pieces finally clicking together in his head. “Dammit,” he muttered. Not so much because he was upset to have forgotten, but rather he was annoyed that anyone else had remembered. It wouldn’t surprise anyone to know that Felix didn’t care much for birthday festivities. Though he was beginning to get a distinct feeling that Annette and Dorothea, at least, had put a fair amount of effort into doing just that, however strange their methods were.

“You know, I think I can forgive you for forgetting about my singing career, now,” Dorothea said with a giggle. “Are you truly so preoccupied with the war that you can’t take a moment to relax?” The accusation stung, no matter how true he realized it was, and Felix’s first instinct was to ignore it and change the subject. Instead he let it continue to sting, tilting his head up to meet a sympathetic gaze from both women.

“We should get to the great hall,” Annette said to Dorothea, who nodded approvingly. Felix watched as two hands reached out to him; he hesitantly took them, letting them help pull him up from the ground.

“What’s in the great hall?” he asked, though he already had an idea what the answer was. He braced himself.

“A party for you, of course,” Dorothea sang as she turned toward the exit. “We figured a spar beforehand would loosen you up for some social interaction.”

Nothing could prepare him well for social interaction, he thought, but he was too tired and confused to protest. “So you weren’t attacking me because you were mad?”

Annette made a noise between a laugh and a growl. “No, I was definitely mad,” she said.

“Me too,” Dorothea chimed in.

“This was just a good excuse to knock some sense into you,” Annette added. “Though I’m not sure how effective it was.”

Felix sighed as they stepped outside; night had nearly consumed the entire sky by now. “I don’t understand either of you,” he admitted. “But I did enjoy the sparring, so… thanks, I guess.”

Dorothea looked at him with melodramatic surprise. “Do you hear that, Annette? Felix has some sense of decorum!” Felix frowned, but decided this was a good time to keep his mouth shut. He let them lead him to the great hall.

—

The party they’d set up was a modest affair, at least; the decorations certainly didn’t live up to Dorothea’s opera, and it had only drawn a small crowd. Mostly to the large assortment of meat laid out on one of the long tables. Felix naturally gravitated toward the food; if anyone spoke to him as he helped himself to a large plate of jerky and smoked fish, he didn’t notice. He did nearly bump into Lysithea as he made his way to a seat, though.

“Happy birthday,” she mumbled. Was that a hint of guilt in her voice?

“Thanks,” he managed, sliding onto one of the benches. “Though an apology would be nice, too,” he added as he took a bite.

“For what? Showing some concern?” Lysithea asked, though not with as much annoyance as Felix expected. “Annette told me you forgot it was your birthday,” she added. “I don’t understand how you survive, sometimes.”

Felix groaned. “It’s concerning how much you all talk about me.”

“Can you blame us?” a voice called from the edge of the table. Sylvain plopped down beside Feilx, placing two glasses in front of them and swinging an arm around Felix’s shoulder. “We worry about you, Felix. If you don’t want to think of this as a party, consider it an intervention.” He casually stole a piece of jerky from Felix’s plate. “Happy birthday, by the way,” he added with a wide smile.

Felix shot him a suspicious glare. “Did you know what Dorothea and Annette were planning this whole time?” he asked, beginning to see Sylvain’s strange advice and teasing from the previous day in a new light.

Sylvain chewed and swallowed, wearing guilt more easily than Lysithea did. “Sure did,” he confirmed. “Glad I didn’t have to keep it a secret for too long.” He gave Felix a shake. “It was a pretty nice plan, wasn’t it?”

That was up for debate, Felix thought, but he was too busy enjoying his food to waste energy being annoyed. At least no one was dancing, or being too loud. Though some music wouldn’t hurt.

As if on cue, there was a clinking of glass from the center of the room; Felix directed his attention to the sound and saw Dorothea tapping a fork against her drink, Annette beaming beside her. “Thank you all for showing up!” she exclaimed once the chatter had subsided. “We’re so glad to have you here to celebrate Felix’s birthday today. I’d say you should all wish him well, but I think he’d prefer you didn’t. I’ve already said too much with this toast.” She turned to Annette, who raised her own cup enthusiastically.

“Happy birthday Felix! This song is for you!” she cried, her nerves apparent as she took a long swig. Dorothea hummed in preparation, locking eyes with her fellow singer before counting down silently with her fingers.

And just like that, Felix was enraptured all over again as he attended to Annette and Dorothea’s sonorant voices. His chin rested nonchalantly on his chin and his lips parted slightly, mesmerized. His thoughts dissipated, replaced only by song.

“There he goes again,” Sylvain said, his words sounding distant.

“He really does make it look like they’re casting a spell,” Lysithea observed with a teasing laugh.

Felix ignored the comments, though he noted that his usual embarrassment was gone. His gaze stayed fixed across the room, catching Dorothea and Annette’s eye as they gave him a sly wave. Magical or not, Felix couldn’t deny that their performance made his chest feel light with happiness; and he was beginning to realize it was stupid to shy away from what made him happy, war or no. And that’s what he was right now: happy.

Music swelled in his ears and he let himself enjoy the moment.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, thanks for reading! I really wanted to write something lighthearted and sweet for Felix's birthday, and I love his supports with Annette and Dorothea — Felix simping for singers will never not be hilarious to me. I also wish that Annette and Dorothea had supports with each other, so this was to help fill that void canon left for me! I enjoyed writing their dynamic, so I'm hoping to explore these two singers' dynamic in another fic sometime in the future. :P
> 
> Also I am on twitter @riahk! Hit me up for dumb Fire Emblem opinions.


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